Free Self Apocalypse: The Beginning by John French Page B

lot of confusion as to what was happening, and I found myself listening to the radio most the night as I was having troubles sleeping.  I was beginning to think that we may have unwilling entered into the war.
     

 
     
    Chapter Seven
     
    Survival
     
    “Surely he shall deliver thee
    from the snare of the fowler,
    and from the noisome pestilence.”
    - Psalms 91:3
     
    Birds chirped outside the camper and the sound of a tree frog filled the air with its high pitched call.  My vision was blurry at first as I began to waken from last night’s slumber.  I sat up and rubbed my hands over my face and ran my fingers through my hair.  My hair was getting pretty long now and probably needed a trim.  I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to cut it now that summer was here.  It had been two years now since I started coming here again.  I couldn’t believe how the time had flown by, even during all this chaotic mess the world was in.  That’s the thing about time though; it stops for no one or no thing.  I tried standing, but had to sit for another minute before I could properly gain my balance.  Only two things were on my mind right now, coffee and the radio.  It had become my new morning ritual.  Start a fire, get the water heated, and then turn on the radio to see if I had any connection to the outside world.
     
    I stepped out of the trailer still rubbing my hand all over my face and head.  My body felt like it was still asleep and I was walking in a dream.  I had gotten plenty of sleep last, but probably a little too much.  I always woke up groggy if I had had too much slumber the night before.  Placing some tinder into the fire pit, I carefully put small twigs and kindling over it.  I lit a match from my now dwindling supply, and gave life to the fire that now blazed under the morning sun.  Today I was planning on hunting for meat.  I was in danger of becoming a vegetarian soon, and didn’t quite care for the idea of eating fish every night.  The percolator rocked unevenly as I tried to position it just right by the fire.  After finding the right spot to balance it I walked over to the camper.  The door creaked some as I opened it to go inside and retrieve the radio.  Bringing the radio out by the fire pit, I placed it on a stump and turned it on.  I ran the dial up and down the slide, and played with it around the spot the government channel had last been.  The only sound filling my little homestead though was that horrible scratching from static.  I messed around with the tuning knob a little more before the coffee was ready.
     
    I made a full pot of coffee this morning.  I hadn’t done that in a long time and thought it was about time I had.  I was planning on heading out later this morning, and wanted to ensure I was plenty awake before I did.  I sat listening to the static playing on the radio while I thought of where I was going to hunt.  I was probably going to head to a nearby swamp where I had shot my deer last fall.  I had a nice blind set up there and the deer seemed to frequent the area.  Static continued to fill the air as my coffee cup turned in small circles in my hand, swooshing the coffee inside around and around.  I stared at the coffee moving in the cup and occasionally took sips.  I was finally beginning to wake now, and before I poured my second cup I turned of the radio that was now irritating me.
     
    Static had flowed from the speakers of the radio for some time now.  There was just no word at all as to what was going on.  I was listening the night the station shut down.  They announced that it was too dangerous to hold where they were, and that the people left there were heading out to find safety for themselves and their families.  The time they remained on the air after that night that silence fell upon the nation was short to say the least.  It was a true testimony to their service though that they had stuck in long enough to inform listeners of the